


Worth Much More

by HellsAngel921



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe, Justice League (2017), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Bruce Wayne, Bruce is oblivious to this, Clark wants to make Bruce happy too, Getting Together, He just wants to make Clark happy, M/M, Somehow, Sugar Daddy Bruce, they figure it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-19 16:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19136497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsAngel921/pseuds/HellsAngel921
Summary: Four times Bruce was trying to be Clark’s sugar daddy and not even realizing it himself.Plus one time Clark showed him that they can provide for each other.





	Worth Much More

**Author's Note:**

> This fic assumes Clark and Lois broke up by the way and that Clark is single.

\---One---

" _I bought the bank_."

Bruce never had any other intentions beyond paying back the people he had wronged.

If he had been honest with himself, he'd admit it had also been a small way to ease some of the guilt he still felt gnawing at him; remnants of a time when he'd been foolish beyond belief and had almost destroyed the world's greatest hero. Superman, an alien from another planet but more human than Bruce could ever hope to be, had begged his would be killer to save his human mother. Superman, who died to save the people who'd scorned him, came back and stood by the Batman's side against Steppenwolf and his army of parademons.

Clark, who's standing right next to him now, not an ounce of aggression or blame in his eyes.

" _I bought the bank_."

A statement and nothing more, spoken almost indifferently. But held so much more meaning.

" _I bought the bank, please forgive me, please tell me what I can do to make it up to you_."

But the way Clark had looked at him when he did. Like Bruce had done something incredible just for spending what amounts to pocket change for a billionaire.

Well...

 

\---Two---

Mandatory board meetings held a pattern that Bruce had long since memorized and completed on autopilot. There were advantages in pretending not to be listening while he fiddled with his phone, hands purposefully held above the table; it gave him the opportunity to observe and catalog while the rest of the table prattle on about where they thought they could take Wayne Enterprises next despite the fact that its CEO was sitting in the same room and not being paid any mind at all. Of course two minutes in, and Bruce prepared himself for the arguments that were bound to escalate when an insane idea would be brought up that he had to cut down before it could take root.

An explosion a few buildings away halted someone mid sentence before Bruce could open his mouth.

And then he immediately shot up out of his seat towards the windows (ignoring a hiss of "What are you doing?! Get away from there!") to get a better look. Because Bruce needed to assess whoever the hell had decided to blow up Gotham today to better plan the Bat's next course of action. His eyes scanned as much of the smoke pouring out of the skyscraper two blocks down-an office building, his mind automatically supplied-and he wondered with a feeling of dread if a certain clown had broken out of Arkham Asylum yet again.

The glimpse of red and blue took him by surprise. It barreled out of the smoke unsteadily and Bruce had to squint just slightly to focus more before confirming yes that was definitely Superman. And he was holding onto something squirming with enough force to make the hero sway in the air. He inhaled sharply, a feeling of apprehension beginning in response to the fact that something had enough strength to make _Superman_ budge.

Bruce then frowned as a thought flitted through his head unbidden.

 _What have you brought to us yet again_?

He gritted his teeth, hand forming a tight fist at his own frankly traitorous thoughts. He knew it hadn't been Clark's fault. So why did he automatically assume the worst had happened? Anger at himself burned within and it was all he could do to keep a steady face later when he watched the recounts of Superman's fight on the news.

" _Witnesses claim Superman had chased the deranged man, a formerly renown professor from Metropolis, to Gotham. Fortunately the building they crashed into was empty at the time_ -"

Bruce quickly muted the rest of it, leaning back against his office chair and running a hand down his face in clear distress. The beep of his desk phone distracted any incoming self-deprecating thoughts to announce an incoming call from his secretary. Without even removing the hand covering his eyes, he used his other to slam the answer button, only slightly satisfied at the dull pain it provided.

"Yes?" he barely only managed not to snap.

There was a pause. And then his secretary's unimpressed voice filters through the speaker, "A Mr. Kent, _Daily Planet_ , here to see you Mr. Wayne."

Oh.

When Clark is standing in front of him, the man looks nervous-hand rubbing the back of his neck and eyes flitting around. Bruce waits while clamping down on the guilt building up inside at his earlier thoughts. Clark looked like he needed something and it wouldn't do any good to either of them to be in that sort of mind set at the moment. Still, it takes quite a few more minutes (not that Bruce truly minds, Clark is important... important to the team and whatever problems he has, Bruce should do his best as his teammate to help) before the other man finally takes a deep breath and speaks.

"Sorry!"

...huh?

"...huh?" is Bruce's intelligent reply.

Shockingly, Clark looks sheepish and gives a little shrug. "I know Gotham is yours and I shouldn't have trespassed-I should have called to ask if it was okay to hunt down-"

Here Bruce listens while not really listening. Clark had come to personally apologize to him. For trespassing into Gotham, because Bruce had stated he would be the one to protect his city alone and didn't need anyone else's help but (because yes he does understand the value of being part of a team means working together), if there comes a day when he can't handle it by himself he would call on them and until then, the rest of the League were to stay out.

Right...

"-but I couldn't because my phone kind of melted in that fire last week and... I hadn't gotten around to buying a new one yet." Clark finishes, shoulders hunched and eyes dropping to the floor in embarrassment. And that was all sorts of wrong, wasn't it? Having Superman apologize to Bruce Wayne, looking like a kicked puppy for trying to save the world. It made Bruce furrow his brows in frustration but at what he wasn't quite sure of just yet.

"It's alright."

Clark's shoulders straightened and he looked up in surprise, "It is?"

"Yeah it's fine" Bruce nodded, "You said so yourself, you couldn't contact me before because-"

Bruce blinked. Clark personally came to Bruce's office to apologize because he couldn't do it over the phone. Because he didn't have a phone.

"You don't currently have a phone."

Clark chuckles, the sheepish look is back. "I meant to buy a new one as soon as my other one got destroyed but..." here his eyes go just a bit unfocused, like he's remembering something, "I just... didn't realize how much one costs. And I would have been fine just buying an older, cheaper model but Lois said she'd never speak to me on phone or real life again if I didn't at least buy one that could download Twitter and well... I've been waiting for my next paycheck to finally be able to text people again" he then shrugged and grinned in way that had Bruce fighting the urge to stare at.

He preoccupied himself with thinking instead.

Clark didn't have a phone. Clark was thinking about buying a phone that probably couldn't even handle multiple apps at the same time. Clark could not afford a phone at this time.

"Well uh... anyway that's all I came here for, sorry for bothering you."

And before Bruce could respond, ("you could never be a bother, Clark" right at the tip of his tongue), the man is out the door with a wave. And that's just as well really. No need for anyone, least of all Clark (least of all Bruce himself), questioning just what that statement could have meant-if any deeper meaning could be deciphered from it.

Breathing out a sigh Bruce reached over to his desk to get some actual work done before the sun went down but when his eyes skimmed over his phone sitting innocently next to some papers needing to be check over, he paused. His eyes narrowed, mind already supplying the information memorized about all his company's merchandise. Latest model, state of the art Wayne Tech. Capable of handling every social media app you could think of all the while video calling someone from the other side of the world with HD quality.

"Hmm."

(During the League's meeting later that week, Batman secretly glances over every few seconds to watch Superman try to discreetly fiddle with his new phone. There's something warm that builds in his chest seeing Clark carefully handling the device, fingers splayed over the Wayne Enterprise logo.

"Put your new toy away Superman, you can play with it later." Arthur says from across the table but his tone is no where near the level to reprimand it should be so everyone knows he's only teasing. It doesn't stop Clark from looking suitably chided.

"It's not a toy. It's a gift." Nor does it, apparently, stop Clark from saying that.

Batman pointedly looks down at the mission report in his hand to avoid the four pairs of undoubtedly accusing stares and the warmth in his chest that spreads at those words.)

 

\---Three---

Charity events were perhaps just a step above board meetings in things Bruce hates to attend. Being stuck in a room with people who resembled vultures ready to sink their claws into whatever their greed and arrogance could reach was one thing. Being stuck in a whole stadium sized hall full of them tried even the most patient of Saints.

"Brucie! Oh Brucie, is that you?"

Years of practice and meditation allowed Bruce to turn around without a trace of ire in his expression upon hearing that voice. Angela Vasquez: five feet five, blonde, blue eyed, absolutely beautiful and had not worked a day in her life for the money she was donating tonight was making her way to him, the gorgeous white dress that adorned her slim body flowing elegantly behind her probably cost more than the amount even needed to set up this charity in the first place. Bruce clamped down those thoughts immediately, knowing it would hinder his plans on gently persuading the heiress to a fortune in perhaps spending just a tad more on the "pitiable lower class".

(What's more, "Brucie" had no right to talk.)

"Angela, dear when did you arrive?" he placed a kiss upon her gloved hand, making the woman giggle.

"Oh Brucie, I've been here the whole time! How could you have missed me?"

Bruce smiled apologetically upon seeing her pout. "Forgive me Angela, I was so caught up in-"

"Oh don't worry about it, darling. Here, let's enjoy the rest of our evening" Angela looped her arm around his and peered up at him through her lashes.

Coy was probably what she was going for. Bruce smiled amiably back and let her guide him around the room for inane chatter. In an hour, however, he found himself as he always did in these circumstances; plastering on a smile while the rich and carefree prattled on about their next expensive vacation spot (despite the fact that the event they were gathered for tonight was to help the suffering and homeless of Gotham) and struggling to maintain his own facade as _the_ airheaded billionaire of Gotham. Just as he was about to find some reason to excuse himself of the infuriating conversation, a very familiar voice broke through, interrupting Angela halfway through her story.

"Mr. Wayne? May I have a moment of your time, please?"

Bruce made sure to turn around at a reasonable speed (he hadn't even known Clark would be here tonight) but the double take and sudden skip of his heart probably made his attempt to appear nonchalant moot. Clark was wearing a suit. No, of course Clark was wearing a suit, this wasn't a casual dress event by any means but Clark, the reporter, usually wore tacky suits one size too large, added in with the fact that the man slouched just ever so slightly had the effect of making him seem much smaller than his actual countenance. The man in front of him was wearing a suit that actually fit him. One that highlighted the broadness of his shoulders, brought attention to a slim waist, flattered what was most definitely an athletic build and the dark colors did wonders in complimenting the blue of his eyes.

Bruce has never been more grateful for his ability to act. _Brucie_ may have admired the "stranger" in front of him with a very appreciative once over but Bruce was pretty sure his brain short circuited very briefly in that moment.

"Do you know this man, Brucie?" Angela's voice broke him out of his stupor.

"No I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you, Mr...?" he held his right hand out, seeing as Angela was still clinging to his left arm.

Clark took it with a polite smile, "Kent. Clark Kent, _Daily Planet_."

Bruce internally snorted in amusement (what a parallel to their first actual meeting), watching as the same mirth filled Clark's eyes. But then Clark's hand lingered on his just a beat too long and Bruce's breath caught at the feel of those fingers gently caressing his wrist as they pulled away. He willed his heart to slow to a more steady pace, a million reasons already forming at the front of his mind to excuse such behavior. The first of which: Bruce may have just imagined anything out of ordinary had happened. The time it took for a regular handshake was debatable at best after all, there was absolutely nothing that happened in that moment. Except when he finally brought his eyes up to meet Clark's, expecting to see confusion or even concern, what he saw was _heat_. Not the Kryptonian, eyes under a yellow sun heat, but something that lit a fire inside Bruce nonetheless and sped up his normally controlled heartbeat without his consent.

" _Daily Planet_? The press?" Angela's annoyed tone allowed Bruce to tear his gaze away.

"Yes, I'm here to write about Mr. Wayne's generous charity event tonight and I was hoping to get a few words from the host himself."

Bruce's relief is apparently short lived. He can't help but look back at the other man and it takes a considerate amount of will power to even his breathing when he notices Clark's eyes are no less intense. Bruce wonders if Clark knows what he's doing. He has half a mind to refuse the interview, no doubt being alone with Clark right now is the worst possible decision he could make with his brain feeling it could only perform at half its usual capacity.

Then suddenly, as if Clark could sense his hesitation before he could really come to a conclusion, the reporter's eyes soften considerably.

"That is, if you're willing of course Mr. Wayne."

And the way Clark looks at him now, with that hopeful face... how could Bruce deny him anything?

 

The terrace they step out into provides a moderate amount of privacy. It's a very good choice for an interview without any eavesdroppers.

But all Bruce can think about is how good Clark looks in that suit. Clark has always looked good but the way that suit was hugging his body did things to Bruce he could never admit out loud. Yet he knows his own body is betraying him. No matter how hard he tries, he can't quite keep his heart from beating too fast or stop the heat pooling to lower parts at the realization that there are trees tall enough to block anyone from seeing them. Before he could berate himself for thinking such dangerous things-for thinking Clark was even interested-

“Wha...?”

-he suddenly finds himself being crowded against the balcony railing. Clark is standing so very close, his arms preventing Bruce from any escape. A small part of him, the part that never really sleeps and is more Batman than Bruce is hissing nervously at being trapped. A much larger part is one second away from closing the small space between their mouths because Bruce has wanted this, wanted _Clark_ for a very long time now but could never let himself hope for more.

"Clark...?" he can't look him the eyes just yet. Can't stare anywhere else except for the other man's lips, tempting him.

"Bruce." Clark sounds so desperate, so hopeful and yet so small, like the slightest hint of rejection may ruin him.

It's all Bruce needs to convince himself. With something very close to agony, he lifts a hand to push Clark away. The crushed expression he receives at the action makes Bruce shake his head and grab onto the lapel of his suit instead.

"No I-I need to stay until the charity is over but..." he pauses and licks at his dry lips, not missing the way Clark's gaze darts down to them. "But afterwards..."

He lets the meaning hang but Clark nods in understanding, a smile lighting his features, relief evident.

"Afterwards..."

Afterwards, when Clark has him pressed up against his bedroom wall kissing the life out of him, Bruce will give himself one last look-take in how absolutely stunning the man looks. Clark will notice where his attention has gone and grin, head tilted in a way that resembles a curious puppy.

"I would ask you how you got my exact measurements for this but I think I should know how much it costs more."

But before Bruce could answer Clark adjusts his grip lower and _lifts_ him, causing the older man to let out an indignant squeak and instinctively wrap his legs around his waist, hands finding purchase in his hair.

"You know what? Never mind. I probably don't want to know the answer to that."

No, Bruce thinks, as Clark goes back to kissing him fiercely with a hand already working on peeling both of them of their clothes, that poor suit is not going to last the night anyway. Bruce would spare a thought to what a shame that is but as Clark moves them to the bed, he can't really seem to care all too much.

He could always buy another one for Clark later. Perhaps add a matching watch too.

 

\---Four---

It was inevitable he would finally get something wrong. So long as the world continued to spin on its axis, Bruce Wayne would find a way to fuck up.

Thoughts on when, where and how he did so are running a mile a minute in his head as he stares down at the box being pushed towards him. The box that contained a brand new Rolex watch that was intended to be a gift for said person handing it back to him. Bruce glances up, tries searching Clark's face for any clue as to how he could fix whatever he had done to earn this rejection but all he sees is fondness in those eyes.

"You don't like the design?" Bruce tries to guess instead, placing the box on a nearby desk. He had personally chosen one of the new iterations after all, thinking the sleek simple look to be the best choice at the time but perhaps he had selected wrong. Maybe Clark would have liked the gold, diamond encrusted one that had been released a few years back-

"No Bruce, the watch is very nice. Everything you've given me is very nice and I appreciate all of it." Clark reassures him but his tone suggests there's more and he pauses like he's trying to find the right words. With a sigh that's still more fond that frustrated he finishes with, "But I don't need an expensive watch."

"You... you don't need it?" Bruce knows his voice sounds far too confused than it should. He sounds like a child that had just been told no for the first time in their life and it would be hilarious given the circumstances if Bruce weren't a man in his forties wondering why the hell his-partner, friend, more than a friend?-isn't accepting his gift.

"No, I don't." Clark, however, chuckles-apparently able to see the humor in this conversation.

But if Clark doesn't need it-

"Then... what _do_ you need?" the question is out before Bruce could fully comprehend what he was saying. His eyes widen just a fraction at the surprise that washes over the other's face. The momentary silence that overtakes them is not quite tense but isn't exactly comfortable and Bruce realizes what the hell it must have sounded like. Like Clark is a charity case and that wasn't right. That wasn't what Bruce thought at all so he tries to back track, tries to correct the situation before he could mess it up even further but all could think to do was ask Clark what he _wanted_ instead but then that makes it sound like Clark is demanding things of him and that was _definitely_ not right. He wanted to find a way to ask Clark what he could do for him, how he can take care of anything weighing him down without also insulting him.

His thoughts are going round in circles and it's frustrating. World's greatest detective but when it comes to words, when it comes to talking to the people who matter to him, it could never be easy.

"Bruce." Clark's hands are gently holding his face, thumb brushing against his cheek in a slow comforting motion and Bruce realizes how tense he had become when his shoulders relax from the touch. Clark's expression is so open and honest and gentle Bruce almost jerks back on instinct for fear of somehow tainting this amazing person in front of him but he holds himself in place because Clark always had this look of disapproval whenever he deemed Bruce to be too hard on himself. Despite his attempt, Clark could still see the slight discomfort if the way his lips quirk in an exasperated smile is any indication.

"You." Clark says, his tone implying it was the obvious, "I want you."

"You... want me?" Bruce can't help but furrow his brow, puzzled at such a statement.

Clark's smile is just a bit wider now and he nods an affirmative.

Bruce is still confused.

"But you already have me." And he means it. Bruce has been wholly, irrevocably Clark's since the moment he bought that bank. The moment he decided he wanted to do everything he could for Clark.

At that Clark just gets that soft expression back, an emotion in his eyes that Bruce can't possibly fathom but makes his heart skip a beat. There's a familiar warmth blooming within his chest when Clark moves forward to press a kiss against Bruce's neck, hiding his face as if being overwhelmed-as if _Bruce_ isn't the one terrified of putting a name to that look. Terrified of being wrong. Terrified of being _right_.

"Then that's all I need." Clark finally mumbles after placing a soft kiss to his jaw, words muffled but might as well have been shouted right into his ear.

Bruce shivers, pretending it's because of those lips brushing against sensitive skin but the hammering of his heart doesn't fool either of them. And get this, Bruce knows he should be panicking, should be telling himself how this could possibly go downhill and imagine all the ways he can fuck it up in the future because that's what Bruce Wayne does. He can't have nice things, it's practically a law of the universe by this point. Twenty years of being the Gotham Bat have proved this to him.

But Clark is in the middle of working on what was going to be a very noticeable hickey and it was distracting enough to put any thoughts that didn't involve that mouth on his neck on an indefinite hold. And really that itself was probably a clue on how things would work out from there.

Oh, Bruce thinks instead, the racing of his heart is like an echoing answer, like maybe he can have this for once.

Clark hums in agreement.

 

\---Five---

If you asked Bruce back when he stood next to Clark on the front yard of a newly repurchased Kent farm what he thought would happen after he bought that bank, he would honestly tell you he had never intended for events to lead to the present time. To him lying on his back, unable to hold back frankly embarrassingly loud moans as his lover pounded into him. His hands above his head were being held in an unbreakable grip from just one of Clark's own and it was maddening not being able to touch himself every time he felt that large cock hit his prostate dead on. It felt so good and he was so close but no matter how he whined, Clark wouldn't let him come just yet. He just uses his free hand to caress every other inch of his body, placing sweet kisses to his mouth and neck and whispers reverently in his ear about about how wonderful Bruce feels around him, how beautiful Bruce looks like this. But those words only make the man under him whine again and shake his head, pleasure is overriding his senses but still somehow he knows it's wrong to hear such a description of himself. He wants to explain that he's broken and scarred, a failure to everything he's ever sought to do in his mission for justice but he can't with the way he's left panting and squirming on each thrust into him.

Clark smiles a little sadly but doesn't stop the pace he's set, reaching his hand up to the back of Bruce's head and pulls him up just enough to claim his mouth. Bruce let's Clark's tongue in and gives a small whimper when the kiss lasts a little longer than usual. His lungs are burning but he doesn't pull away even when he's starting to feel lightheaded from the lack of air. Clark is kissing him and Bruce would never pull away from that. Just when he thinks he's on the verge of passing out, however, (the edges of his vision spotting just a bit), Clark finally moves away to allow the man to breathe and the smile on his face is practically radiant.

"See Bruce? You're so good for me."

Bruce can't form any coherent thought, he's completely breathless and so so close to what will be an incredible orgasm, just needing that one little push-

"Let go Bruce, just let go. Let me take care of you now."

And with a gasp, Bruce finally does just that.

 

Much later, the two lay cuddled up in the after glow with Clark pressing light kisses onto the back of Bruce's neck and shoulders.

(Bruce almost snorts in amusement when he first realized how Clark had arranged them, he'd never thought he would ever end up being the little spoon but the security and contentment he felt having Clark's arms encircle him from behind and a solid warmth at his back killed any protests he may have had).

Bruce is relaxed when he picks up his phone from the pile of clothes he had discarded the moment they stepped into the room. Luckily it was close to his side of the bed so he didn’t have to get up to reach it. He unlocks it and sifts through the unimportant work related emails first before opening the web browser to a tab that had been left open. He holds the phone deliberately so Clark can look over his shoulder at a list of Gotham condos on sale and sure enough, he feels the kisses stop.

"Bruce..." Clark sounds like he doesn't know whether to be amused or exasperated.

"Hmm?" Bruce doesn't stop scrolling through the list.

"Bruce." Clark huffs, settling on amusement apparently, but still pries the phone out of Bruce's hands and turns him around so he can face him.

Bruce raises a brow.

"Let's just go to sleep, okay?"

He gets a nod in response and the two settle down again, this time with Bruce laying his head on Clark's chest. Not two minutes pass before Bruce says,

"A house is more convenient anyway."

Clark's shoulders tense but Bruce can tell it's not from irritation.

"No nosy neighbors to wonder why Bruce Wayne is visiting."

Those shoulders are shaking minutely and Bruce grins.

"Plus, there's a view of the harbor that's just breathtaking and the master bedroom is facing East so plenty of sunlight gets filtered through the windows."

"Oh my god Bruce, please just go to sleep!"

But Clark is laughing and didn't outright say no so Bruce doesn't cross it from his mental list and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is thanks to all those people on Tumblr making posts about Bruce being Clark’s sugar daddy at the end of the DCEU Justice League and that one person (I can’t goddamn find because I am terrible at remembering but you know who you are! I am sorry!) saying how Bruce would bottom despite being so. This was entirely all your fault. Also I googled how much a a good suit and a Rolex costs for the sake of this fic and Jesus I literally had to take a few seconds to recover. Hope you all enjoyed I haven't written in forever and I'm slowly hoping I can get back into it because Superbat is ruining my life.
> 
> Also also, please forgive me for that terrible sex scene.


End file.
